


I'm The Devil

by KyloReam



Series: I'm The Devil: 33 Days of Kylux Guro Fills [1]
Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: #keepthehelmeton2k16, 33 Day Guro Challenge, Amputation, Another M. Night Shyamalan Plot Twist™, Badass Rey, Ben Gets The Skywalker Special™, Blood, Blood Drinking, Blood and Gore, Body Horror, Body Modification, Cannibalism, Conjoined Bodies, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Decapitation, Emperor Hux, Force Alchemy Gone Wrong, Forced Fusion, Gen, Genital Piercing, Get Off Hux's Brand New Dick, Guro, Helmets, Jedi Ben Solo, Liches, Literal Bloodbath, Literal Kylux, M/M, Masks, Masturbation, Mind Sex, Other, Puella Magi Madoka Magica AU, Sad Leia, Snoke Being a Dick, Witch!Kylo, Xenophilia, Zombies, helmet kink, myspace au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-13
Updated: 2016-07-24
Packaged: 2018-07-23 16:49:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7471530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KyloReam/pseuds/KyloReam
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt fills for <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/users/saltandlimes/pseuds/saltandlimes">saltandlimes'</a> <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/collections/Kylux_33_Days_of_Guro">Kylux 33 Days of Guro</a>.</p><p>Each chapter is a one-shot and can be read independently of the others. Tags do not necessarily reflect the content of each chapter; please see specific chapters for appropriate content warnings!</p><p> </p><p>  <b>Latest chapter: conjoined bodies</b></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Drowning (Amputation)

**Author's Note:**

> Woohoo I'm doing the [Kylux 33 Days of Guro](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/Kylux_33_Days_of_Guro) challenge! Truth be told, I’m not much of a visceral horror writer, but I think it’s a great opportunity to test my boundaries and start to springboard some fics and AUs that have been bouncing around in my head! Also, all the fics will have an accompanying song by Clams Casino bc why not.
> 
> For today’s prompt (amputation), I decided to write something for an AU I’m currently developing. @somepsychocandytalking, my AU dealer, passed me an idea about Kylo Ren as a golem…which doesn’t happen here, but you might have an idea of where I’m going with that plot element after reading the fill. 
> 
> **Chapter-specific Content Warnings:** major character death, amputation, blood.
> 
> Fic title/inspiration: ["Drowning"](https://soundcloud.com/clammyclams/drowning) by Clams Casino.

Ben opens his eyes. He’s lying down at the base’s medbay in one of the uncomfortable cots. His mother is hovering above him, her forehead creased with worry. He thinks about how small she is, how ashy her face looks. “Ben…” she says softly, and he watches as tears fall silently from her eyes onto his chest.

“M-mommy?” The words crack out of his lips. He’s so exhausted and in so much pain. The entire right side of Ben’s body feels like it’s on fire, and he tries to raise his hand.

It’s not there. Neither is his arm. He jerks his head to the side and sees bandages stained with dark blood covering his shoulder, evidence of his recent loss.

His mother weeps.

Ben swivels his head to the left, where his uncle and cousin sit. Rey’s face is stony, her hands braced against the arms of the chair. Luke’s eyes are bloodshot, and he dabs at his face with the back of his left hand, the one he didn’t lose to Darth Vader.

“How long…how long have I been asleep, mom?” She’s by his side, the side with the missing arm. She presses her lips to his forehead and kisses him.

“Nearly half a day cycle,” says his mother. She sniffles. “Oh Ben, you beautiful, beautiful fool.” His face is wet with her tears.

“You’re lucky to be alive,” says Luke. “You’re lucky your mother and I felt you call out to us before you passed out.”

Ben closes his eyes. He can feel the remorse welling within him. He was such an idiot. He could’ve gotten himself killed, could have lost his soul, could have abandoned his mother and cousin.

“I’m sorry,” he says, and there are tears in _his_ eyes, too. “I just wanted to…bring him back. To prove Snoke wrong.”

His mother wipes her eyes. “Ben, I know. I miss your father, too. But his death was _not your fault_. Nothing you or I or Luke did could’ve stopped Snoke from killing him.”

Ben remembers Han’s death, remembers watching him crumple under the Force lightning Snoke threw at him. He remembers feeling powerless as he was held in place, his vision clouded over as Snoke unleashed horrific mental torture. He remembers his mother’s screams of anguish as she charged at Snoke, prepared to cut him down with Ben’s lightsaber, how she only managed to sink the blade into his gut. They’d been lucky to escape, luckier still to be alive now without Snoke worming his way into Ben’s mind. He’d at least severed that connection.

His mother doesn’t know that Ben replays Han’s death constantly, that he’d spent the last year after his death researching the mechanics of Force resurrection. Luke doesn’t know that he studied arcane records—some even belonging to Dark Force users through the ages—on the elements and tools needed for a resurrection, and gathered those minerals and elements under the pretense of smuggling goods to the Resistance. 

He suspects they know the blood he’d used to create the sigil came from a human (a Stormtrooper, and Ben had killed him in self defense, believing his success in bringing Han back outweighed any guilt in killing another). He suspects they know that he was successful in opening up the portal to the Force. 

Luke had told Ben that being in direct contact with the Force was different from simply channeling it. He hadn’t explained that the Force didn’t so much contact him as consume him. Ben remembers slipping into an endless void, losing all of his senses, all concept of his body. All around him was total darkness, and yet the darkness had a soul.

 _Who has d͜ár̡ed to contact the Fo҉r̕çe҉?_ Ben felt the voice more than heard it, and unlike his decades of mental assault from Snoke was unafraid by the Force’s vocalizations, arcane as it was.

 _Ben. Ben Organa Solo_.

_What is y̧ǫur des̀͟i̧̛͡ŗ̕͞ę͟?_

_I wish to resurrect Han Solo_ , thought Ben wildly. He remembers sudden awareness of a _presence_ in the Force, of a form walking toward his currently formless body, something dark outlined in the already dark void. Bizarrely, he felt the air change around him, as though the Force was breathing.

_What is your payme͞nt for s̴ee̕͡k̛͡i҉͘ng̀͢ thiş ̕kn̢o͞wl͏l͏̭̯̜̭̱̠̘͜e͏̷̫̮͢ͅḓ̷͍͕̩̪̦͖̤g̥̯̹̱̫ę͉̱̩̳̩̘̯͇̘?_

 

_The elements, minerals, and liquid necessary for Force resurrection._

The breath stilled around him. Then he heard the Force _chuckle_.

 

_Your̸ to̸̵̗l̢̛͎̦̝̳̖̼̟͚l̶̟ is͜ ́i̧nsu̢ff͠įc҉i͏e͝n̷t. Y͡ou̷ ͠wi̷l̨l͝ ͜pa͡y mo͙̠̜ͧͪ̉r̘̘̹̄e̼̳͚̪͓̫̥̒̿͊̅̓  ̕͝t͏o͜͜͡ p̷̢͜as͉̜̭̦͔s̮̜͔͔̯̳ ̻̯̯͈̦b̫̰̘̥̠a̮̮̰͔͉ͅc͔̥͎k i͇͈͖͖n̸̢̟͖̯͔ṯ̻̻̯͓̞́o͖̪͉͉̭̹̼͉ ̛̙͇̭͉̤̀t̶̶̪̖̭̞͖h̶̲̞͈̜̜̰͉͠e͏̛̼̭̣̀ m̦̼̳̳̫̈́ö̱͇́̉̔r̞̼͔̤͎̼͍͚͈͡t̹̱̱̾͋ͦ͐̆aͯ͛͐̔͋̑ͣ͡҉̬̖̤͕̙̭̦̰l̵͇̼͇̮͉̥̗ͨ̀́ ̳̰͌ͮ̾͞w̻̳̯͖͆͗͜͟o̱̔̅͒ͥ̌̋r̨͚͎̭͎̐̈ͅr̞̼͔̤͎̼͍͚͈l̴̮̎͋ͨ̀d̪̰̭̤̳̄̀͠._

 

 _No, wait, what—_ Ben started to think, before his mind was assaulted with an array of Force knowledge, more than he’d known was possible. Countless methods for obtaining, controlling, and releasing the Force from every school of thought he knew, from sects he never knew existed, Dark and Light and tangential shades which were unencumbered by that dichotomy, all flew across his mind. Ben felt himself being thrown back, the void spiraling away from him, and as he fell, felt the prickle of fire shooting from the tips of his right finger up his arm, as though it was being burned off, _eaten off_ by thousands of razor-sharp teeth, he yanked his arm back—

—and came to in the middle of the bloody resurrection sigil, blood spurting from the stump on his shoulder where his arm used to be.

Ben remembers screaming, remembers inhumane pain and anguish. He remembers reaching out to his mother, to Luke, to Rey, to _anyone_ with the Force, hoping they’d find him. He remembers trying to breathe, trying to keep moving, trying to do something to stopper the bleeding. 

“I’m so, so sorry, Mom,” Ben says between sobs. “I’m sorry.” He’s remembering Darth Vader—no, Anakin Skywalker—how he worked so hard to keep his beloved Padme from dying, and wonders again whether his father’s words about him holding too much Vader in him were said in jest or in truth.

He sits up in bed and his mother lets him lean onto her chest. It’s incongruous, her tiny body next to his, and yet he can’t help but think of how strong she is. “I forgive you, Ben. I love you, Ben.” She repeats the words, rubs his back, and lets him sob. 


	2. Born To Die (Decapitation)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Damn kyloream, back at it again with the bizarre AUs…
> 
> So sometime this past spring I saw a post about Force entropy. That reminded me of another series that touches on the continuity between good and evil and magic as a way of staving off the universe’s entropy…yes, I’m talking about Puella Magi Madoka Magica. There are a lot of similarities between Anakin and Sayaka’s storylines, or between Obi Wan and Mami’s (including they both die at the hands of a ‘witch’).
> 
> There are also witches who visually remind me of Star Wars e.g. [have you seen Elsa Maria??](http://vignette2.wikia.nocookie.net/villains/images/1/15/Elsa_Maria.jpg) She’s like the First Order personified as a witch.
> 
> Even if you don’t know anything about Madoka Magica, you should still be able to enjoy this ficlet! Kylux is more implied than shown. Rey goes ham. Lots of things lose their heads.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Chapter specific content warnings:** decapitation, blood, stylized gore, major character death.
> 
> Fic title/inspiration: ["Born To Die"](https://soundcloud.com/clammyclams/born-to-die-remix-lana-del-rey?in=clammyclams/sets/instrumental-mixtape-2) by Clams Casino.

Rey knows she’s entered Kylo Ren’s labyrinth when she sees the snowflakes.

They’re larger than the flakes she remembers from Starkiller Base, and when one falls onto her it refuses to melt, has the shape of a multi-pointed star and the texture of sand. The sand-like dunes where she walks appear to be growing taller, more like craggy mountains with razor-sharp peaks lined with jagged black trees. At the horizon, the sky is the white of a cloudy day, and as  she looks up, she watches it darken to black, pinpointed by endless sharp falling stars.

She knows Kylo Ren is near when she sees fiery red light flare at the edge of a cliff in the distance, its beam shooting into the impossibly black sky. It’s an acknowledgement that Rey has come to kill him, and a dare for her to succeed.

Years of traveling through the deserts of Jakku, accompanied by her recent Jedi training, allow Rey to travel quickly to Kylo Ren. She’s surprised she doesn’t encounter any familiars, though the mountains loom taller and the star flakes fall heavier as she approaches him. The air is thick too with feelings of self-doubt— _you are weak, you are useless, you are foolish, you can’t save, you can’t be saved_ —muttered in Kylo Ren’s monstrous mechanized voice. Rey ignores the voices; it’s his glamour, a trap to lure her into sympathy that she won’t give into again. She tells herself what she’s doing is _right_ , that it’s the duty of a Jedi to cut down the fallen.

The path up to the cliff’s edge is steep. Kylo Ren has his back to her, his cowl raised above his head. His muttering is stronger here, the beam of red light with two crossbeams flaring larger than life. She’s practically standing behind him now, and she can see that he isn’t even holding the blade. He’s hunched over on the ground, something else cradled in his arms.

He stands up and turns around slowly, allowing her to look at him. Kylo Ren’s face is just as terrible as she remembered, the cold space where eyes once were rimmed in glowing silver. In his arms, he holds the head of Hux, the hated general of the First Order. His eyes are glazed and blood appears to drip endlessly from the jagged tear of his neck. Kylo Ren runs a hand through Hux’s hair tenderly as he continues to meet Rey’s gaze.

“You still want to kill me.” It’s a statement, though the lilt at the end of it makes Rey wonder if he meant to ask it as a question. She stares back at him.

“That’s what happens when you’re hunted by a witch,” she snarls. Rey draws her lightsaber, a two-bladed staff, igniting it but holding it at waist level.

The voices around them have suddenly gone silent. Rey frowns, looks at Kylo Ren, who continues to stand with his hands clasped around Hux’s head. Then his cloak _ripples._

The edges of the cloak elongate, stretching out behind and in front of Kylo Ren, dark shapes streaming from his body like smoke from an extinguished flame. The forms twist together, growing teeth and eyes and claws, taking the shape of a pack of vornskr. With a howl, the heads launch themselves toward Rey.

She leaps into the air, quickly decapitating as many heads as she can, dodging between the dark hounds with their snapping jaws. The heads fly away from her, spiraling into the starry void of the sky above. Kylo Ren’s unspoken voice is in her head.

_Where do you think witches come from, Rey?_

_Jedi who strayed too far from the Light,_ she thinks back, and grits her teeth as she swings her blade in a lemniscate, vornskr heads dripping dark blood across her arms, across her chest, across her legs. It’s sticky and viscous and feels more like slime.

_You’re wrong._

The heads have now sprouted spikes, have grown arms clawed with long talons that are razor sharp. One cuts across Ren’s face in a parody of a scar she once dealt to Kylo Ren. She screams in anguish and drives her lightsaber horizontally through one vornskr head, watching with grim satisfaction as it splits in half, more tar-like blood spurting from its neck.

_All Force users succumb to the Dark Side. The word “Jedi” means “mystic,” does it not? What are witches but mystics who have come into their own? Search yourself. You know it to be true._

Rey screams, tunneling through the mass of vornskr heads until she reaches Kylo Ren, still holding out Hux’s head like an offering of peace. The mass swirls around them like the sand spirals of Jakku. As Kylo Ren’s cowl slides from his head, Rey knows what she needs to do.

With a flick of her wrist, she severs his head from his body.

There is a moment where Kylo Ren stands still, dark red blood staining his torso, before his body tilts backward into the flare of the red beam behind him. The vornskr heads cover him, cover Hux, as the beam incinerates them, pitching them over the cliff and into the blackness below, leaving nothing but the smell of ash and ozone.

Rey stands at the cliff’s edge and wipes the blood from her face, watching as Kylo Ren’s labyrinth lifted like mist. Not for the first time, she wonders if being Force sensitive is a gift or a curse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tune in tomorrow for cannibalism (sidebar: drinking blood is cannibalism, right?)
> 
> Also, hmu on Tumblr @ [kyloream](https://kyloream.tumblr.com).


	3. Brainwash By London (Cannibalism)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay guys so I know I wasn't gory for my first two chapters......but that changes now.
> 
> The Kylux AU of the day is *spins wheel* Myspace AU? This is actually a rework of the first fic I ever started for [porcelain_cats](http://archiveofourown.org/users/porcelain_cats/pseuds/porcelain_cats)' Myspace AU! Besides this scene, this fic was about Kylo and Hux having a sleepover and being gross mid-2000s teenagers, making out, piercing nipples, eating pizza, normal teen things ya know?
> 
> There’s nothing cute here. (Or is there? *X-Files theme plays*)
> 
>  **Chapter-specific content warnings:** underage characters, graphic depictions of violence, stitches, wounds, cannibalism, blood, bloodbath (whoops that’s a prompt for a later day isn’t it), blood drinking, so much blood, possessive behavior, dead doves getting eaten, another M. Night Shyamalan Plot Twist™
> 
> Fic title/inspiration: [“Brainwash By London”](https://soundcloud.com/clammyclams/brainwash-by-london-the) by Clams Casino.

The first thing Hux is aware of upon waking is that he's wearing his glasses. The second is that there’s blood spattered across them.

His bleary eyes snap open. One look at the painted walls, the karate tournament trophies, and the Darth Vader poster is enough to confirm he’s in Kylo’s bedroom. The sun is just breaking through the blinds. He remembers that he’s sleeping over at the Solo house for the weekend. How on earth did he end up in Kylo’s bed? Where’s Kylo?

Hux takes off the glasses and clumsily goes to wipe them on the top sheet before it occurs to him there’s _no reason at all_ for there to be blood on his glasses. The dream he’d had, where he cut Kylo open…that had been a dream, right? His heartbeat thrums in his ears as he pushes himself up in bed. “Kylo?” he calls. No answer.

There’s moistness underneath Hux’s hand, and when he pulls his palm away he sees the unmistakeable darkness of fresh blood. It hasn’t been there long, maybe an hour or so. He pulls the sheets back—he's still wearing his jeans and turtleneck from last night, thank goodness—and swings his legs over the edge of the bed. There are spots of blood across the room’s grimy white carpeting leading out beyond the bedroom door.

“Kylo?” says Hux, louder this time.

No response. There’s blood soaking through the sheets, and Hux pushes them away, horrified. He supposes this is the moment when he should probably feel afraid.

Hux takes a deep breath and gets out of bed, placing his feet on the carpeted floor, and lightly walks out the door, following the blood spots. They wind down the hall and lead him to the bathroom. The yellow glow of incandescent lights is just visible underneath the door.

Hux doesn’t even think to knock, would rather catch Kylo shitting himself on the toilet than—

—than see the literal bloodbath that greets him when he opens the door. Kylo is lying in the Solo’s ugly mauve bathtub, bare-chested but still wearing his rainbow leopard pants from last night, except now they’re soaked through with blood. The source of the blood is a long incision that traces between the cleft in his abdomen and ends just above his navel, the wound fresh, barely stitched together with dark sutures. The skin around the wound is red and swollen. Kylo’s eyes are red and swollen, too, his face a mess of smeared eyeliner and mascara, nose filled with snot.

Hux feels like he’s going to retch.

“Kylo?” he asks again. Against his better judgement (everything about the situation seems against Hux’s better judgement), he gets into the tub. There’s a thin layer of blood coating it, and despite thinking he was conditioned to it from years of hunting and dissection, the reality that he’s sitting in a tub with Kylo’s blood makes Hux shiver. It’s something he’s fantasized about, yes, but now that he’s confronted by his desires he realizes the blood stinks, is congealing. He feels something hairy against his foot and sees a red and black striped extension peeking through the blood. “Kylo, what happened?”

Kylo meets his gaze, his sleepy brown eyes slightly unfocused, and his expression is completely unreadable. Hux isn’t sure whether he’s looking at him with disgust, with admiration, with fear, with lust, with some combination of all the above. He raises a hand, grasping at Hux’s and pulling his hand toward his bloody chest. There’s a thin layer of blood around the bottom of the tub. Suddenly Kylo smiles, no, _beams_ at Hux.

“You did this to me,” he says, eyes meeting Hux's. “Don’t you remember?”

And Hux _doesn’t._ He was so sure the images that he’d dreamed—Kylo writhing in blood on his sheets, the glossiness of his intestines, the way he could feel the blood pulsing around his hands—were just that, dreams. Seeing his fantasies brought to life is utterly frightening, like the first time Kylo kissed him, like the first time he ate live worms. He feels as though he’s being pushed toward the edge of something.

“Don’t you remember?” repeats Kylo. He motions for Hux to come closer. “You told me you wanted to get inside me.” He blushes. “Your hands felt so good. I’d let you bleed me dry if you wanted to.” His lips ghost over Hux’s cheek, a shaky sigh escaping from them, and then he reaches over to the side of the tub and pulls out a scalpel, one Hux recognizes as coming from the biology lab.

Kylo's hand reaches out, steadying the scalpel in Hux’s hand against the sutured skin. He knits his eyebrows together, eyes blinking rapidly, and for a moment Hux is _certain_ Kylo is going to burst into tears. A shy smile creeps across his face. “Wanna help me?”

This is the moment when Hux should get out of the tub, should grab Kylo’s Nokia and call his parents, call 911, _anything_ to make sure Kylo doesn’t bleed to death in the bathroom. His pulse is thrumming, his ears are ringing, Kylo’s gaze is piercing, _how is he sitting in so much blood?_

“Yes,” Hux hears himself say, “I’ll do _anything._ "

Then Kylo, still smiling, flips Hux’s wrist around, sending the scalpel through his sweater and into his solar plexus

Hux’s breath catches his his throat, and he looks at Kylo with wide eyes. His other arm is pinioned above his head, and Kylo presses one of his thighs to Hux’s own, preventing him from moving away from the wall.

“You think you’re so clever, Hux,” he murmurs gently. “Taking pictures of roadkill, boasting to everyone about how you’re going to _vivisect_ me.” The blade slides down Hux’s abdomen, forming a neat red line as Kylo cuts deep into his skin. “What was your end game, anyway? Were you going to sell my organs to the highest bidder? Make a pocket square out of my skin? Find a boy who’s prettier than me and carve him up?”

“Kylo, stop—”  

“No, _you_ fucking stop.” There’s no sweetness in Kylo’s voice any more. “You don’t know what I’m capable of.” Hux is frozen in place, powerless. He stares at Kylo wide-eyed, unwilling to watch as he picks up the blade and drags it _back down_ through his stomach. Hux makes the mistake of looking down and seeing his turtleneck ripped, of seeing the thin layer of fat around his pale abdomen, now slick with blood.

“Hey, we match now,” says Kylo, running a tongue over his braces. “Kinda like that bracelet I made for you that you never wear.” His hands press into the incision he’s made, and Hux is fairly certain he’s touching his intestines. He’s never felt arousal, doesn’t really feel romantic interest, so what is this jittery feeling? Fear? Anxiety? It feels like something beyond anxiety. He tries to say something to Kylo, but all he can make out is a whimper.

Kylo’s head dips down into the wound, and Hux can feel him putting his lips to it, putting his nose into it. He feels like he’s going to pass out. When Kylo lifts his head, he’s covered in blood from the nose down, and Hux is certain he sees bits of muscle on his teeth.

“You taste so good, Hux,” he whispers. “Don’t you want to taste yourself?” And Hux is still frozen as Kylo presses his lips against his, as hot blood floods his mouth. He feels like he’s going to retch.

His eyes snap open as he comes to on the couch in the Solo family living room, a lumpy quilt thrown over him. The sunlight’s pouring in through the windows and doors in the foyer, making the room glow. He looks above the TV at the family pictures, of Mr. and Mrs. Solo after they got married, Kylo in his karate uniform cuddling a French bulldog, a family portrait where Kylo is all ears. He exhales deeply.

Hux’s hands fly to his stomach. He’s still wearing his turtleneck, it’s still whole. Kylo’s bracelet is tied around his wrist. It’s okay, he tells himself. It was a dream. It doesn’t mean _anything_.

Distantly, he can hear Kylo walking around the kitchen, can hear the tinkle of cereal in a bowl and the putter of a coffee machine. He’s humming something by The Medic Droid. It’s okay. He’s okay. Kylo’s okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lel I feel like “it was all a dream” is the second biggest M. Night Shyamalan plot twist I’ve written and is kind of a cop-out, but come on! They’re kids! Kids who have questionable tastes in music and fashion and human bodies, but still, kids.
> 
> Hoo boy next I get to write piercings...and masks...in one day? Two days?


	4. All I Need (Piercings/Body Mods)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I am not exaggerating when I say that half of this was inspired by Hux xenokink headcanons and the other half was inspired by the Kanye West lyric [“get off my brand new dick."](https://youtu.be/-Cx51NbgYMA)
> 
>  **Chapter-specific content warnings:** extreme (cosmetic and very obviously consensual) body modification involving implants? IDK this is fairly tame and not at all gory unless certain types of body mods squick you out.
> 
> Fic Title/Inspiration: ["All I Need"](https://soundcloud.com/clammyclams/all-i-need-soulja-boy) by Clams Casino.

In the moment, Hux wishes he’d positioned a holorecorder on Ren’s face so he could capture the exact moment when he removed his underclothes.

Right now, Ren’s eyes are nearly bulging, his brows furrowed in confusion (in arousal?), his already wide mouth distorted into a close-mouthed grimace. It’s the most grotesque Hux has ever seen him look, and also the most unintentionally hilarious. 

(Later, when remembering this moment, Hux will reflect that Ren was at his most hilarious when he got drunk and, while still wearing all his clothes and helmet, swung Millicent around in his arms while singing and baby-talking.)

“Your dick,” he says at long last.

“Yes,” says Hux, somewhat carelessly, “my dick.”

“…there are _bumps_ in it.”

To say there are bumps in Hux’s dick is an understatement. There are four rows of silicone implants along his shaft, each implant about the size of a small bead. In fact, there’s a lot about Hux’s dick that makes it look as though it came from someone entirely non-humanoid. It’s been tattooed a brilliant violet at the head, which is pointed like an arrow, with a faint scale pattern, and fades to periwinkle along the length of his shaft before transitioning to Hux’s natural skin tone. The bumps have been shaded, tattooed shadows making them appear more raised than they actually are.

Hux’s scrotum is similarly altered. It’s also been tattooed in the same colors and patterns, and appears to be unnaturally swollen. Smirking, Hux puts his dick in his hand, letting Kylo get a peek at the row of three piercings at the base of his scrotum.

Kylo is still speechless.

Oh, Hux is enjoying this far too much.

“There are bumps on my dick? I hadn’t noticed.”

Kylo wrinkles his nose. “When…why?”

“About two months ago, while you were on an extended mission. Because I wanted it.”

It’s true. Hux so rarely indulges in his wants and desires, including the more sensational ones. He’s long enjoyed having sex with different species, but it wasn’t until recently that he realized he could modify his dick to resemble something non-human. It had been a pain waiting for it to heal, not being able to stroke himself. The facility fortunately had bacta tanks—not his preferred method of healing, though they significantly shortened the amount of time healing between implants, surgery, and tattooing. 

He strokes himself idly, relishing the sensation of his fingers bumping over the implants. He’s been dying for Ren to come back from his mission so he could see his dick sliding in and out of his mouth, feel Ren’s tightness around him as he fucked into him, imagine Ren was being taken by some inhuman monster. Maybe at a later date he’d convince him to have sex fully covered with only his penis exposed, as Ren had first presented himself. 

“Okay.” Ren says. He meets Hux’s eyes, seeming less embarrassed. “I can get used to this.” He lopes over to Hux, smiling slyly. “Could be fun to have a monster in me,” he says, his fingers joining Hux’s on his dick.

Hux grins back.


	5. Leaf (Mask/Covered Eyes)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So I know I talk a lot about Kylo Ren keeping the helmet on during sexytimes but what if Hux? wore the helmet??? (ʘ‿ʘ) Hi my name is kyloream here are 1500 words about my huge hecking helmet kink
> 
>  **Chapter-specific content warnings:** uhm Kylo Ren’s helmet? Sensory deprivation? Mild claustrophobia? There isn’t anything gory or creepy here…I’m really bad at following the guro side of these prompts.
> 
> Fic title/inspiration: [“Leaf”](https://soundcloud.com/clammyclams/leaf-a-ap-rocky-ft-main) by Clams Casino.

Kylo Ren’s helmet stares at Hux, intimidating and impassive. The dark oxidized surface is scraped and cracked from years of wear in battle, though the chromium plating around the eyes still glows. He can just make out the visor’s darkened transparisteel lens, doubtlessly a feature that can be adjusted from Ren’s perspective. The longer he stares at it, the more he picks up minuscule details he hadn’t noticed before: a large dent on the back of the helmet toward the left side, the vertical ridges above the helmet’s face mask, the tear-shape pattern that radiates underneath the visor.

The helmet turns Ren into something immortal and inhuman, a symbol of the darkness in the Force. Hux remembers their first meeting, how he had believed Ren to be older, possibly not even human, a disfigured warlord who’d survived the extermination of the Sith. He hadn’t expected a man with a boyish face that was too expressive. The man in question currently watches Hux with wide eyes as he examines the helmet, turning it over in his hands.

“You want to wear it, don’t you?”

Hux feels his face redden. “What I want to do and what I _ought_ to do are two very different things.”

Ren rolls over on the bed. He’s taken off most of this clothing, though he still wears his leggings and undershirt. “Don’t lie. You’ve been imagining what it would be like to put it on since we first met.” Hux thinks to himself about how Ren is irritatingly right. He’d started thinking about it as soon as he’d learned Ren didn’t need it to breathe, had nothing to hide except his youth.

“I’m not breaking some ancient rule established by the Knights of Ren in doing this?”

“It’s my helmet,” says Ren. “You have my permission to wear it.”

Hux shrugs, runs his fingers around the edges searching for the release valves. “They’re by the face mask,” Ren offers, to which Hux exasperatedly sucks his teeth, pressing his thumbs on two indentations at the space where the mask meets the body of the helmet. There’s a mechanical whir, and then the face panel raises, widening the neck opening enough for Hux to place it over his head.

There’s a moment of claustrophobia as Hux adjusts to the darkness inside the helmet. There’s a narrow metal band that spans the back of the helmet with hooks that fits around the crook of his ears, like wearing a pair of glasses backwards, though he has no idea what it’s for. The transparasteel visor has some sort of polarization filter and the already muted colors in the room appear even more monochromatic. He briefly wonders how Ren manages to see anything. He breathes in nervously, and can smell Ren’s breath on the inside of the face mask. The entire helmet has the lived-in, slightly sour smell of sweat and body oil.

“How do you feel?”

“Strange,” says Hux, and he hears his own voice, plus the distorted half-amplification from the mask’s vocabulator. He has the disconcerting feeling he’s only experienced when hovering between sleep and wakefulness.

“Can I…can I close you up?” Hux nods, and if it weren’t for the strangeness of the entire experience he supposes the way the helmet wobbles unsteadily on his head would be comical. Ren comes into view, biting the edge of his lip as he presses his thumbs against the catches. The servomotors whir again and the face mask snaps back in place.

Hux wonders how long it took Ren to get used to wearing the helmet. It still feels claustrophobic, too warm for his liking, and now that it’s locked around his head he can barely feel any ventilation, can’t hear any sounds. He rubs his hands together in front of his face and is shocked to hear the sound of skin rubbing together around his ears

“Bone conduction,” offers Ren. “A primitive method of transmitting sound, but one the Knights have used when crafting our helmets for centuries. It’s an interesting way of hearing things, isn’t it?”

“It is,” says Hux, and he’s startled to hear the new mechanized voice that comes out in place of his own. It’s not Ren’s voice, but it isn’t his, either. “How long…how long did it take you to get used to, ah,” he jabs a finger at the helmet.

“Less time than you’d think,” says Ren. He straddles Hux where he kneels on the mattress. “I really wanted it.”

Hux sighs, and the sound is very reminiscent of Darth Vader’s iconic rebreather. “I can’t imagine why,” he says in his not-voice.

“It represents knowledge of the Dark, you know.” Ren leans his head against Hux’s shoulder. It’s disconcerting to feel his head with the barrier in place, to feel his hair tickling his neck but not his face. “And it cements your identity as a Knight.”

“Strange boy,” murmurs Hux. Ren’s arms fold around him, holding him close. He can feel his heart beating against Ren’s chest, is certain Ren can feel it too. Hux closes his eyes and tries to get used to this sensation.

He’s taken aback when he feels Ren’s cheek brush up against the side of the helmet, and he’s even more bewildered as he feels Ren’s lips brush against the metal. “What on earth—” he starts to say, but then Ren’s face is in front of the visor, his eyes half-lidded, his lips wet.

“Don’t speak,” he replies, his voice low, and then he presses his mouth against the face mask and sucks hard.

It’s a strange sensation, being kissed and being unable to kiss back. Hux can hear Ren kissing him, finds himself straining behind the mouthpiece desperately. His mouth touches the warming metal and he’s met only with the stale taste of Ren’s mouth. It’s off-putting, and yet it isn’t, and bizarrely feels like being in Ren’s head.

He must have projected that thought to Ren, because he catches his lips as they quirk into a smile. “That’s a thought,” he says, before pressing his hands to the back of the helmet (the back of Hux’s head, he thinks for a fraction of a second) and pulling Hux deeper into a kiss. Suddenly Hux can feel Ren’s lips, both the sensation of being kissed and of kissing. A moan escapes his mouth and at the sound Ren works his mouth, running his tongue against the surface of the helmet and sighing.

Hux can feel his arousal tenting his underwear, and reaches down to free himself from his briefs. Ren pulls away for a moment, spits into his hands, and then his hand joins Hux’s, his fingers massaging the length of his cock. With his other hand, he guides Hux’s hand into his leggings, where his own erection is tenting the fabric. Hux revels in the girth of Ren’s cock and moans again, pulling an arm around his shoulders and pressing them closer.

He’s sure Ren must be projecting, because he feels as though his hand is broader, wider than it actually is. He and Ren each have their left hands wrapped around each other’s cocks, and yet in the moment Hux feels as though they’ve merged into one person. Hux can feel Ren as though he’s layered himself on top of his own body, can feel the tension of hard muscle over the muscles in his own arms, chest, and back. He gasps, feels light-headed beneath the helmet, crashes his face against Ren as more hungry kisses press around his mouth, around his nose and cheeks.

Ren pulls at his own cock, bringing them both together in one massive hand, and the sensation of being stroked together with Ren is enough to push Hux over the edge. He throws his arms around Ren’s shoulders, shuddering and gasping, and feels Ren spill over as though he came as well. He feels giddy, his face hot and metallic and slick with saliva. He sighs again, and this time his voice feels natural.

Ren rubs circles into his back for what feels like an eternity before unsealing the helmet and pushing it off Hux’s face. He’s certain he must look a mess, hair plastered to his sweaty head, pupils blown, drool around his mouth, but Ren kisses him anyway. “You enjoyed yourself,” he says between kisses as they fall backward onto the mattress.

“So did you,” says Hux, slotting himself deeper into Ren.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comin' up next: **_ZOMBIES AND THE UNDEAD_**


	6. Lvl (Undead/Zombies)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An Emperor-verse story in which Kylo and Hux get their greatest wish ／人◕ ‿‿ ◕人＼ killing Snoke and ascending the throne 
> 
> **Chapter-specific content warnings:** Major character death, temporary major character death? Not gory at all.
> 
> Fic title/inspiration: [“Lvl”](https://soundcloud.com/clammyclams/05-lvl-a-ap-rocky) by Clams Casino.

In the end, Snoke asked Kylo to kill the General. Hux, for his part, embraced death with the quiet command and resolution he approached most unpleasant things, did not even flinch when Kylo drove his lightsaber into his chest. And Snoke was so pleased to watch the body drop to the unpolished floors, the hateful general who had despised him and challenged him at every opportunity silenced. He was so proud of his once-apprentice that he descended from his dais to lay his hands on Kylo Ren and shower blessings upon him.

Yet Snoke, with all his wisdom, all his reliance of Force visions, did not anticipate Kylo Ren’s lightsaber powering on as they embraced. He didn’t have time to react as the blade angled up into his ancient body, as it severed his spinal cord and shot straight through his brain. 

From there, it was only a matter of time for Kylo to find and obliterate the root of Snoke’s power: a massive kyber crystal that radiated dark red light, hidden in the tabernacle behind the dais. In his younger days Snoke told him the tabernacle contained relics of the Order of Ren which would cause anyone who looked upon them to go insane. How gullible he had been. 

The Dark Side had used soul crystals for millennia. The technique prolonged life by allowing the soul to dwell outside the body, tethered by the Force. The body could be healed of injuries more rapidly, could even be replaced with a new mechanical or organic body so long as the crystal Force bond was re-established. Once created, a soul crystal was impossibly hard to destroy, which made them ideal for those seeking immortality.

It took Kylo less than a minute to slice the crystal in half with his lightsaber, and he continued hacking at it until it was fine ruby dust.

Thus satisfied, he powered off his lightsaber, clipped it to his belt, and walked over to General Hux’s body. He prostrated himself before the body and unzipped the tunic, surveying the damage. The hole in Hux’s chest missed his heart and spine by centimeters, though it had badly damaged his lungs. Kylo sighed, lifted his palms upward, and began to channel the Force into his body. Energy transference was an incredibly taxing technique, one which left Kylo fatigued and operating at a low level of Force sensitivity for days afterward. In this situation, it was the only option he had. As he felt the Force growing in his palms, heavy and solid, he pushed his own energy into it before pressing his hands firmly against Hux’s chest. Red-golden light surrounded them and Kylo was glad for the armor and helmet he wore to protect himself from the energy expelled during the blast. 

The throne room felt incredibly dark and cold as the Force transfer faded away. Kylo looked down at Hux’s healed chest, watching for the effects.

Slowly, Hux’s lungs began to take in air.

Kylo felt his heart rate speed up and quickly unlocked his helmet.

Hux’s eyes twitched for a moment, his mouth taking in air. Suddenly, his gray-green eyes blinked sleepily. “…Ren?”

“Welcome back, General,” Kylo said. His face broke out into the first genuine smile he’d given in a long time and he pressed his forehead to Hux’s.

“Did…did it work?”

“The Supreme Leader is dead.” He gestured to the body, cleaved in two some meters away from Hux’s own. 

“And you…”

“And I destroyed the crystal. He’s gone for good. I couldn’t have done it without you.” Kylo smiled warmly at Hux. “Thank you.”

Hux pushed himself up from the floor and leaned his head against Kylo's chest, listening to his heartbeat. “I suppose I’m alright with you stabbing me in the chest if it meant Snoke’s death.” His eyes twinkled and he twined his fingers together with Kylo’s. “I’m looking forward to ascending this throne as Emperor, with you as my Hound.”

Kylo smiled back. “As the Emperor?”

Hux noted something off about the smile. Kylo’s mouth was wide, his voice was gentle, and yet the smile hadn’t spread to his eyes. There was something altogether predatory about his gaze. “Of course, you’ll be my right hand,” he said quickly, hoping to ease Kylo’s fears, “and you will play an important role in all military decisions, using your command of the Force, and you'll—” 

“You forget that I hold your life in the palm of my hand.” Kylo’s voice flipped from submission to control. His fingers traced over the hilt of his newly redesigned lightsaber. “You can’t travel more than a hundred meters from this before the Force bond completely weakens. You’ll lose control of your body and become a lifeless corpse,” he murmured, nuzzling Hux’s head, "and only I can heal your injuries. Imagine if the First Order discovered their emperor was _dead_.”

“Give me the crystal,” said Hux. The fearful needles of anxiety rose around his head. “It’s my soul, and it belongs to me.” He reached for the blade, but found an invisible bubble surrounded it. 

Kylo laughed. “Why would I do that? Your crystal is permanently housed in of my lightsaber. A plasma blade with a soul crystal is a powerful conduit to the Force. You are the reason I could destroy Snoke’s crystal,” he added, smiling down at the oxidized hilt. 

“This wasn’t the plan!”

“The plan was to kill Snoke and ascend the throne, General,” said Kylo. His eyes were steely. “Which we will do. You can play at being Emperor, if you want. Wear all white and a crown of laurels, have a marble throne, create a neo-Imperial court. But remember, _my Emperor_ ,” he said mockingly, leaning his mouth close to Hux’s, “I am the Supreme Leader. And your life belongs to me.”

Kylo kissed Hux, and Hux let him. His lips and mouth remained cool.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
> **_DO NOT THROW SOULS_ ／人ʘ ‿‿ ʘ人＼**  
>   
> 
> Tune in next time for cyborgs, yo.


	7. I'm The Devil (Conjoined Bodies)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometime this past winter I remember seeing a post on Tumblr about combining your first fandom with your most recent fandom, and I thought “Oooh, I wonder what I can do to cross Dragonball Z and Star Wars?” I’d say this fic qualifies.  
> *whispers* fuuuuu……sioooooooooon…………
> 
>  **Chapter-specific content warnings:** body horror, eye horror (no eye injury). Literal Kylux.
> 
> Fic title/inspiration: [“I’m The Devil”](https://soundcloud.com/ixerowow/clams-casino-im-the-devil) by Clams Casino.

The first thing Hux is aware of is pain, so much pain, more pain than he’s ever felt in his life. He feels as though he’s been torn limb to limb, then set on fire, then eviscerated again. This is rapidly followed by a sensation of _wrongness_. He’s in pain, but it isn’t his own pain, somehow, the screaming muscles in his body don’t feel like his own. He wonders if this is Kylo Ren projecting, if, at some point in their journey to Snoke’s citadel, he’s started unloading his sensations onto Hux. It wouldn’t be the first time it’s happened. 

 _Ren?_ he thinks uncertainly. _Are you projecting?_

He’s met with silence. Hux can’t see anything, can’t hear, tries to move his pain-filled body, and is beginning to wonder what went wrong when the screaming begins.

It’s not his voice screaming, either.

_Ren! What are you doing, Ren!?_

He can hear shuddering gasps, the sounds of a panic attack, followed by loud, fearful sobbing.

_Ren. Explain to me what’s going on._

The sobbing continues, Ren seemingly inconsolable. _I…I don’t know. It hurts, Hux._

_What do you mean, you don’t know? What are you doing in my head? Why are you projecting?_

_I’m not projecting._ **_You’re_ ** _projecting._

_That’s impossible, I don’t have that ability._

There’s silence, and then Ren begins crying again, even more noisily. _Get a hold of yourself, Ren, and tell me what happened._

All Hux gets in response are more tears, peppered by Ren blubbering. _I’m so sorry, General_ , he weeps out. _I’m so, so sorry_. He's about to ask what Ren’s done and if it’s at all reversible when his senses suddenly and very wildly kick into gear. 

Almost all of them do. He still can’t move, can’t feel his body (which is a relief, a respite from the intolerable pain he felt earlier), but everything else he observes makes his mouth go very dry. 

Hux is lying on a table in a brightly lit room. It looks like it’s made of duracrete and the fixtures overhead cast everything in painfully bright white light. The air feels different than on the Finalizer, there’s an antiseptic quality that’s different from the recycled air onboard the ship, and Hux hazards a guess that he’s on a planet somewhere rather than in space. There’s the distant hum of machinery, and the lights drone above him. He briefly wonders if he and Ren have been captured by the Resistance, if this is one of their holding cells.

Then the face of Supreme Leader Snoke swims into his view.

If Hux were in control of his body he would recoil, but since he’s paralyzed he supposes his eyes alone express his surprise and horror. He realizes it’s his first time seeing Snoke in person, and yet everything about him is familiar. He appears to be slightly taller than two meters, his skin withered and leathery and the color of a corpse under water. Somehow Hux knows that Snoke’s skin will be slick with cold sweat if he touches him, that the odor of death lingers in his wake. The Supreme Leader’s eyes glitter down at him with disappointment. Distantly, Hux hears Ren crying.

 _“Be silent_ ,” hisses Snoke, with a wave of his hand. Ren’s sobs vanish, as though a hand were clapped over his unseen mouth. Hux realizes he’s completely alone now, except for Snoke, and the reality frightens him. Snoke closes his eyes for a moment. “Neither of you will speak, not until I finish speaking to you.” He looks off, and Hux wonders if he’s addressing Ren, if Ren is strapped down on a table just out of eyeshot.

“Kylo Ren. Armitage Hux. Both of you have profoundly disappointed me. As commanders of the First Order, who were highly trained to uphold its mission, you let it down at the moment when you  were most needed.

“Hux. By failing to note the faulty oscillators on Starkiller Base, and not addressing this error earlier, you were complicit in the destruction of the First Order’s super weapon. Your troops’ inability to dispatch the Resistance’s X-Wings shows a notable lack of command. 

“Ren. By failing to retrieve the droid on Jakku with a map to Luke Skywalker, you once again were unable to destroy the last Jedi in the galaxy. You unwittingly allowed an untrained Force sensitive scavenger to escape from an interrogation cell, and by confronting Han Solo at Starkiller Base, you were unable to defend it during its greatest moment of need.

“When I assigned you both to the Finalizer and to Starkiller Base, I assumed I had coupled intelligence and military command with strength and Force mastery. But now I see you cannot work effectively as co-commanders.” 

Snoke sighs. "I should destroy you for your failures. However, I have graciously created an alternative arrangement for you.” Hux feels the hairs on the back of his neck prickle, as if Ren is back in his mind. He isn't crying, but Hux can sense his heart racing, his labored breathing. They feel like they’re in his body as well.

“There is a technique practiced by some Force sensitive schools in which two beings may merge, temporarily or permanently, into one body. It’s done to increase one’s strength in the Force, and to enhance one’s ability. Typically it’s done by two beings of similar Force-sensitivity, but there are other ways a fusion may take place.” Snoke walks out of view, and Hux can hear him pressing some panels against a wall. The table begins to move, shifting to a vertical position, a mirror positioned directly across from it, and as the table rotates Hux is aware that _his_ heart (if it is his?) is racing. “As you might have guessed,” Snoke continues, “that is your fate."

The first thing Hux notices are the eyes. The body reflected in the mirror has two pairs of them, set in an impossibly long face with a wide mouth and a delicate jawline. One pair, toward the top, are Ren’s sorrowful brown. Below it, Hux sees—and blinks—his own gray-green eyes. He feels as if he would pass out, were he not firmly attached to the table. Snoke is speaking, but he barely registers the words.

“Under this fusion, you have been bonded together in a new body for life. You will find that Armitage Hux’s brain takes priority over Kylo Ren’s in your new body. Ren’s mind still exists—I couldn’t let two decades of training in the Force be diminished. Hux’s muscles have also been grafted onto yours via the Force, offering you greater strength, endurance, and agility.” 

The body is huge, taller and bulkier than Ren’s ever was, muscles bulging under the skin. And their skin seems to ripple between Ren’s and Hux’s, sections of Hux’s paler freckles like patches around areas where muscles seemed to be grafted. Ren’s eyes are filled with tears, and Hux watches as they silently trickle down their nose, blinking them away as they fall into his own eyes.

"I wonder what I should call you,” says Snoke. He places a hand on Hux (and Ren? He—no, _they_ —still can’t believe what they’re seeing). It’s clammy and cold, just as they knew it would be.

“I could call you Kylux, I suppose,” his mouth quirks up at the edges, “though what would be the use of using two names you’ve sullied? Or perhaps _Bentage_ ,” he says, and Hux watches as Ren’s eyes screw closed, tears flowing even more readily down their face. Panic is seeping into Hux’s mind, and they wish they could run, could attack Snoke, could reverse whatever horrors he’s incurred on their bodies. For all the talk of fusing them together to make them more powerful, they feel powerless.

“No,” says Snoke. “No names that tie to Armitage Hux, or Kylo Ren, or Ben Organa Solo. After all, you aren’t either of them. I’ll give you a fresh start. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” A cruel thing to say, thinks Hux, as neither he nor Ren are fully in control of this body, can’t nod or shake their head. Ren’s despair is overwhelming, and Hux finds tears in his own eyes.

“As of today,” says Snoke, “you will be known as The Hound.” He smiles. “A Force servant of my own creation, with training in both the Light and the Dark and the mind of a general to guide it.” He waves his hand in front of their face. “You may now speak.”

They can move their mouth, and yet it feels foreign, too wide and too narrow at the same time. They begin to speak, and their voice is that of a stranger. “No,” they stutter out at last.

 _You will thank me,_ says a voice in their head that’s neither Hux nor Ren’s. It’s a powerful command, one they can’t avoid, one which commands them to move their body and prostrate themself before the Supreme Leader.

“Thank you,” says The Hound. Their knees are bent, their voice submissive, and impossibly sad tears fall from both of their pairs of eyes. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> …..HAAAAAAAA!
> 
> (I’m an asshole.)
> 
> (Also I suppose this is closer to Steven Universe forced-fusion than DBZ Metamoran/Potara fusion, but SU was clearly inspired by DBZ so.)
> 
> Next prompt: bondage!


End file.
